by Jess Ryder
The worst thing was that he told his family that the problems were on both sides. I felt so sorry for him that I went along with the lie. Although given that neither the intrauterine insemination nor the IVF treatments worked, and he managed to impregnate Natasha, there must have been something wrong with me, too. In the end, I think it was anxiety that stopped us conceiving. We wanted it too much and couldn’t deal with failure. As the years went by, I begged Nicky to adopt, but he wouldn’t even consider it. His children had to be his own flesh and blood.
There were plenty of advantages to being childless. We saw our friends struggling financially, stressing out as they tried to juggle the kids around their careers, cancelling social events because they couldn’t find a babysitter, moaning about how holidays weren’t holidays any more, just hard bloody work. They said they envied us our freedom and our disposable income, then always added, ‘But we wouldn’t be without them.’ Every time Nicky heard those words, he crumpled into himself, as if he’d just been kicked in the balls.
We stopped hanging out with our tactless parent-friends. Even Hayley, who was married to Ryan by now and seemed able to pop out kids whenever she felt like it, was careful not to dwell on the subject. Nicky threw himself even more enthusiastically into his work, and when an opportunity came to move to London and join a growing media distribution company, he grabbed it with both hands. Once again, he rose rapidly through the ranks. Soon he was making more money than even he had ever dreamed of. He also made some very good share investments and we used the profits to climb the property ladder.
I didn’t need to work; my salary was a drop in Nicky’s vast ocean of wealth. When we moved to London, I didn’t look for another job, and concentrated on homemaking instead. Choosing paint colours, buying furniture, comparing fabric swatches and carpet samples. Nicky liked the fact that I didn’t work. He saw it as a mark of his success. But once our house was fully refurbished and kitted out, I was at a loose end. So, with some investment from Nicky, I started my own interior design consultancy. It didn’t seem to matter that I had no qualifications – friends recommended me to friends and so the business developed. I wasn’t very good at the admin side of things; never paid much attention to the accounts. It was less of a job and more of a social life.
I think the last five years we spent together were probably my happiest. We celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary with a massive family party and renewed our vows on a beach in Mauritius. Babies still weren’t mentioned, but it was less of an issue. When I hit forty, it was almost a relief, because I was moving beyond childbearing age and people no longer asked me whether I was going to have kids. We had the money to do what we liked. Life was good. No, more than good: it was fantastic.
But it all ended the day Nicky told me about Natasha. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s true.
It was mid-February, and outside it was cold and grey. I was working on a kitchen-diner extension for friends of friends of friends who’d just bought in Primrose Hill. The woman wanted a large mosaic on the wall above the dining table and I was trying to source the right artist for the job. Proper artists were often funny about working within specific colour schemes, so I needed to find someone talented but not too precious. I was scrolling through some websites when I heard a key turning in the front door.
‘Nicky? Is that you?’ He didn’t answer, but I recognised his tread in the hallway. I raised my voice. ‘Darling? What’s up?’ It was mid-afternoon. He never came home halfway through the day.
He walked into the sitting room, still wearing his coat. His face was pale, and yet strangely radiant, as if a fire had been lit deep inside him. I couldn’t read his expression. Had somebody died? Had he just pulled off some massive deal? I couldn’t work out whether it was good or bad news.
‘For God’s sake, what’s happened?’ I said.
‘I’m going to be a father,’ he replied.
It was like he was speaking in a foreign language. The words made no sense.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m going to be a father,’ he repeated. ‘Natasha’s pregnant.’
Still I didn’t twig. ‘Who the fuck’s Natasha?’
He sank onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Jen,’ he said through his fingers. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Who. Is. Natasha?’
‘The girl I ran over. The cyclist. I told you about her.’
I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Nicky had mentioned the accident the day it had happened. She was young, a waitress or something. He’d felt guilty about knocking her down and was worried she might contact the police. I think I even suggested he text her to check that she was okay. ‘Use your charm to disarm her,’ I’d said.
Well, he’d certainly done that. And now, what, no more than three months later, she was pregnant? With his child? It wasn’t possible, on so many counts. One, he was happily married. Two, he was always working away; spent his life in airports and international hotels. He was too busy to have an affair. And three, he was impotent. His sperm was lazy and weak. It couldn’t even climb up a test tube.
‘I’m not in love with her,’ he told me. ‘It was just a fling. A mid-life crisis kind of thing. I was about to end it.’
‘Are you sure it’s yours?’
He nodded. ‘She says so, and I believe her. She wouldn’t lie about something like that.’
I wrapped my arms around myself and doubled over. I was gasping for breath. My chest was hurting so much I thought I was having a heart attack. Because I knew there was no way he was going to let the fucking girl go now, not with that precious life inside her. And I knew that my life was no longer worth living.
It wasn’t just Nicky I was losing; it was everything and everyone. Jane and Frank, who had taken me in when I was just eleven, who had guided me through my teenage years, supported me when my mother died, who’d given me a home. They would be very angry with Nicky, but they wouldn’t turn against him in favour of me. Not with another grandchild on the way. And what about Hayley? She would have to pick a side, and I guessed I would be the loser. Blood was always thicker than water.
That was it, then. It was over. My good run had come to an end. There would be no more group holidays in Ibiza, no more Christmas gatherings, no more summer barbecues … no warm feeling of belonging and of being wanted, of knowing that other people cared. I would be flung out of the only real family I’d ever had and banished to the wilderness.
24
Then
Natasha
* * *
I had to wait three days before Jen got back in touch. She sent me a mysterious text.
Can you meet me by the London Eye at 2 p.m.?
Yes. Why?
I’ll explain later. X
A text from Jen, signed with a kiss. It was strange how things had turned around.
I took the train into central London, gazing at the monotonous landscape through the window as I tried to predict our conversation. She must have some news about Emily, I decided, my insides skipping with hope. But why couldn’t she tell me over the phone? Then I started to imagine it was bad news, the sort that had to be told in person. What if Nick had taken Emily abroad? I’d been researching child abduction by parents on the internet and had come across some terrible stories about mothers who had battled for years to get their children back. They’d spent a fortune in foreign courts, and sometimes, even when they’d won the legal battle, the children had been so turned against them by their fathers, they’d refused to come home. Until a couple of weeks ago, I would never have thought Nick capable of such things, but now I wasn’t so sure.
‘Natasha!’ Jen saw me walking towards her and waved. I quickened my pace, and as we met, she embraced me awkwardly. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said.
I pulled away. ‘Thank you.’ She was wearing a tight-fitting white dress with black strips at the sides to accentuate her hourglass figure. Her hair looked freshly highlighted and her make-up was perfe
ct, if a little heavy. I looked pale and insipid beside her, in my washed-out jeans and cheap, baggy T-shirt.
‘Why are we here?’ I asked.
‘I had a meeting nearby this morning. And it’s a good place to walk, don’t you think?’ She gestured towards the expanse of the Thames on our left. It was a sunny day and the water was a deep navy blue. I’d come here with Nick many times, before and after Emily was born. We loved to walk along the South Bank from Waterloo towards Tower Bridge, listening to the buskers or buying street food from the stalls. Sometimes we simply stopped and gazed at the hustle and bustle on the water. Or marvelled at the majesty of the Houses of Parliament and the pale, grand buildings on the opposite bank.
‘I’ll never get tired of this view,’ Nick always said. And now I wondered whether it had been a favourite place for him and Jen too.
She clutched my arm. ‘It’s bunged here; let’s move on a bit, yes?’
We started walking eastwards, towards the National Theatre. The pavement was crowded with tourists, idly strolling along, stopping in front of us without warning to take photos. We skirted around them, weaving a path between the queues at the catering huts and the browsers at the second-hand bookstalls. The place seemed a strange choice for a private conversation, but then I thought, maybe she’s protecting herself, in case what she’s about to say upsets me or makes me angry.
‘What’s this about, Jen?’ I said. ‘Have you found out where Nick is? Please, don’t keep me hanging on like this, it’s unbearable.’
‘Sorry, this was a bad idea.’ She came to a halt. ‘It’s too busy here, isn’t it? Shall we find somewhere to sit down? How about the theatre foyer?’
‘Just tell me, do you know where Nick is?’
She nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Thank God,’ I sighed. ‘Where?’
‘Let’s find a quiet corner.’ She led me into the theatre and its vast, cavernous foyer. The matinee audience had just gone in and there were lots of empty chairs. We picked a bench by the window and sat down. Jen offered to fetch coffees, but I said no. I just wanted to know what she’d found out.
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then put her hands in her lap. ‘Okay. So, first I rang Hayley and told her what you were going through and how you wanted to open negotiations with Nicky.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I’m afraid she wasn’t very co-operative. She said she didn’t know where he was, and even if she did, she wouldn’t tell you.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ I replied.
‘Yes, well, she can be very hard-nosed at times,’ Jen agreed. ‘I love her like a sister, but … once she’s made up her mind about something, she tends to stick to it. She wasn’t at all impressed that I was trying to help you.’ She pulled a face.
I blinked at her, confused. ‘But you said just now that you thought you knew where Nick was.’
‘Yup. I tried Jane next. She’s an easier nut to crack. This time, I didn’t mention you at all, just asked her if she’d heard from Nicky or had any idea where he was hiding out.’
‘And?’ My voice brightened.
‘She said she didn’t know for sure, but about a week before he did his disappearing trick, he asked her about Red How; whether she knew if it was still being rented out.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘What’s Red How?’
Jen looked surprised. ‘Nicky never mentioned it? Gosh. I’d have thought …’ She tailed off. ‘Oh well, I guess the place was so associated with us, I mean, me and Nicky.’
‘What is it, a holiday home?’
‘Yes, in the Lake District. It’s like a massive country house, sleeps about fifteen people, with a lovely garden and even a small lake. The Warringtons used to rent it every Easter, for the whole family. It’s a great base for hiking and sightseeing, although it always seemed to rain. It was the weather that put us off in the end. We hadn’t been for years, but it was still a special place. Lots of good memories, you know?’ A wistful look passed across her face.
‘And that’s where Nick and Emily are?’ I said.
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think so, yes. I rang the accommodation agency to make a general enquiry and they told me it was booked out for the next three months. Obviously, I couldn’t ask who’d booked it, but it’s got to be Nicky. It’s very remote, the perfect place to hide out. And it’s familiar to him; he knows the landscape, he feels at home there.’
‘What’s the address?’ Jen hesitated, and I felt a prick of irritation. ‘If you won’t tell me, I can find it on the internet.’ I reached for my bag, but she put her hand on my arm.
‘This is why I wanted to see you.’ She looked at me earnestly. ‘I’m worried that you’ll rush up there.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘And what if he refuses to talk to you?’
‘I’ll make him talk to me.’
‘How? By shouting through the letter box?’ She gave me a despairing look. ‘He’s not going to hand Emily over just because you ask nicely. He’s gone to great lengths to get her away from you, Natasha. He’s not interested in court orders or custody arrangements. He’s not the sharing kind. It’s all or nothing with him. Always has been, always will be. He’s ruthless, that’s why he’s so successful in business. He tramples over everyone that gets in his way, and he does it with such charm, they don’t even feel it. But he won’t care about hurting you.’
I hated to admit it, but Jen was probably right. Even though we’d been together for over three years, she still knew my husband better than I did. Knowing Emily’s whereabouts was an enormous relief, but getting her back was another matter.
‘You only have one shot at this,’ Jen said. ‘Once he realises you know where he is, he’ll move on somewhere else and then you’ll never find her.’
‘Yeah, I know. I can’t afford to blow it.’
She shuffled closer to me and lowered her voice. ‘There’s no point in trying to negotiate. You have to abduct her back.’
The idea lit a flame within me. Instantly I had visions of running down a country lane with Emily in my arms, tucking her into a car and zooming off at top speed. But how would I execute such a plan? I was on my own, I couldn’t even drive – not legally, anyway. And Nick would put up a fight. Who knew what he might do to stop me?
I became aware that Jen was studying my face, as if trying to read my mind. She took my hands in hers and leaned forward. ‘If you want, I’ll help you.’
‘Really?’ My fingers felt limp in her grasp. ‘Why? Why would you do that for me? I wrecked your marriage, I chucked you out of your home. You said yourself you hated me. Not that I blame you. I’d feel the same. I don’t understand why suddenly you’re on—’
‘Revenge,’ she said. ‘Revenge, pure and simple. All Nicky ever wanted was a child of his own. He didn’t care about me; he jumped ship as soon as you got pregnant. We were always irrelevant, can’t you see that? He used us – both of us.’
‘I don’t know … I suppose so, yes. I hadn’t … hadn’t thought of it like that,’ I stuttered.
‘Why the hell should he have Emily all to himself? I’d love to put a stop to that. See how he likes it when he’s all washed up, on his own.’ Her eyes were flickering with bitterness and the corners of her mouth were turned down in a scowl. ‘Helping you would be a selfish act,’ she added. ‘I’d be doing it for me, not for you. It would bring me enormous satisfaction.’
Finally I understood the point of our meeting. We were such unlikely comrades, and yet it kind of made sense to join forces. It didn’t matter that we had different motivations: our goal was the same. There were practical advantages, too. She had a car, and she knew the location well. It was unquestionably a two-person job. I would snatch Emily – I had no idea how, but we’d find a way – and Jen would be the getaway driver. It was ambitious, but it had to be worth a shot.
‘Well? What do you think?’ she said, cutting into my thoughts.
‘Okay.’ I nodded. ‘Let�
�s do it.’
Jen smiled. ‘That’s my girl! The sooner the better, I’d say. We don’t want him changing location.’
‘No, you’re right … I can’t think of any reason to delay.’ My brain was already whirring with thoughts of what I’d need to take. Clothes for Emily, food and drink. A blanket to keep her warm.
‘Good. We’ll drive up tomorrow morning and stake out the house. We’ve got to make sure he’s definitely there before we barge in. Then we wait.’
‘You mean, we break in during the night? But how? Won’t it all be locked up?’
‘Yes, but I think I know a way in. We’ll need torches. I remember the layout of the house and I’ve a good idea where Emily will be sleeping.’
‘Really?’
Her voice suddenly dipped, and tears welled up in her eyes. ‘There’s a tiny room at the front of the house, above the porch. It was decorated like an old-fashioned nursery and had a beautiful old cot in it. Hayley’s babies always slept in there. Nicky used to talk about how, when we had a child, he or she would sleep in that cot. That’s why he’s gone to Red How, to finally fulfil the dream.’
‘God … I had no idea he was so obsessed,’ I said. ‘It’s like he’s mad.’
‘Oh, there’s nothing he won’t do to keep Emily,’ Jen replied. ‘You’re putting yourself in danger, you do realise? If we succeed, he’ll never forgive us.’
I felt my jaw tightening with resolve. ‘I know. And I don’t care.’
